Harry Potter paced along the pathway, back and forth, checking, then double-checking, even triple-checking his ticket. Platform nine and three quarters. Whatever the blazes that means. Every single platform was a nice whole number – seven, eight, nine, ten. No fractions, no decimals, just plain old digits.
He turned around, daring to ask his indifferent-at-best, cruel-at-worst relatives, the Dursleys for assistance. His aunt's response was an overly-dramatic eye roll; his uncle completely ignored him altogether. Only Dudley gave any sort of verbal indication. "How the devil should I know, cousin? You're the one with the so-called gnarly powers – you figure it out!" Harry heard the laughter of his relatives as they left Harry alone at the station to his fate – they truly didn't care if he made it to the school or not; they were merely glad to be rid of him.
Harry sighed silently to himself, and continued to push his trolley with his belongings in hopes of finding this impossible platform. "It's just you and me, girl," Harry whispered to his avian friend, Hedwig. Hedwig was a gorgeous white owl gifted from Harry's one and only (half) human friend, an imposing-but-jolly fellow named Rubeus Hagrid. Hagrid – as he was usually called – had treated Harry with nothing but kindness and respect ever since he broke the news to him about his wizarding heritage, something his relatives clearly were aware of, but did everything in their power to hide from the unsuspecting lad.
Harry tried asking a couple of random people if they knew anything about a 'Platform Nine and Three Quarters'. An elderly woman could only offer a smile and an apology, and a young man gave Harry a rather annoyed look. Harry was about to give up his search altogether and find his way back to the Dursleys with his tail tucked in between his legs, when he heard a deep voice booming from perhaps thirty feet away.
"Young man? Are you lost?"
Harry spun around quickly to try and put a face to the deep voice. He saw a man – perhaps thirty five or forty years old – with a shock of russet hair and a bushy moustache. He was quite tall, perhaps six foot two or so, but what stood out to him was what he was wearing. It wasn't inappropriate, but it was rather old-fashioned looking – perhaps he would fit in the 1930s or 1940s with his black fedora and matching trench coat. Standing next to him was a pleasant-looking woman of about the same age, with golden blonde hair worn up in a high, tight bun, and had the most striking blue eyes he had ever seen.
Standing immediately in front of the adults were two girls. The elder daughter appeared to be about Harry's age, and she was impeccably dressed in her Hogwarts uniform. Her grey knee-high socks were pulled up to just under her knees, and her spit-shined brogues sparkled in the sunlight. Her hair was put up in a very neat ponytail, and she inherited her mother's striking light blue eyes. Harry couldn't get a read on her emotions – she was neither smiling nor frowning, which actually made Harry feel a little uneasy. Was he being judged already?
The younger daughter was probably about nine or so, and she was dressed in a navy blue plaid skirt and matching buttoned sweater. She looked more like her father – her neatly-brushed dark brown hair hung to the top of her shoulders, and her eyes were definitely not her mother's – they were a greenish-yellow hazel.
The voice called again. "Young man? Can I help you?"
"Erm, me sir?" Harry asked, unsure how to respond.
The man smiled and nodded. "You're kind of hard to miss, pushing and pulling that trolley of yours up and down the station like that. I get the feeling you're new to this – am I correct in my assessment?"
"Well, yeah, I guess I am," Harry replied in a soft tone. His cheeks flushed a slight pink in embarrassment. He then looked at the man and showed him his ticket. "I don't suppose you know much about Platform Nine and Three Quarters, do you?"
The man chuckled. "As a matter of fact, I do. It's a big day in our household – we're sending off our elder daughter for the first time." He then thrust a large right hand in front of Harry. "I'm Ithamar Greengrass, and this is my wife, Ambrosia. My elder daughter is…"
The blonde girl turned around and gave her father a funny look. She turned back to Harry and smiled the most beautiful smile Harry had ever seen. "I know precisely who you are… Harry Potter," she said in a high, soft lilt. The way she spoke, it was so posh and refined, as if she were a member of the Muggle British aristocracy. "I'm Daphne Celeste Greengrass, heiress of the most Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass."
Harry was definitely taken aback – he certainly didn't expect to be recognized, especially by a future classmate. He wasn't sure how to respond to such an introduction, either. A brief thought of offering his hand to her flickered through his mind, but he just as quickly decided against it – this Daphne girl certainly carried herself much differently than any other girl he knew. At the risk of making a fool of himself in public, he bowed to her, rather like how an orchestra conductor would bow to an audience at the conclusion of a concert. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Greengrass," was all he could say.
Daphne was unable to resist a giggle. He turned to her parents and grinned. "He's so cute," she whispered. She turned back to Harry and smiled again, and curtsied in response.
The younger girl didn't seem to be nearly as concerned with formalities as Daphne. She also flashed a lovely smile, but her speech was a bit less refined than her elder sister's. "Hiya Harry," she giggled. "I'm Tori. It's short for Astoria. Are you a first-year like my sister?"
"As a matter of fact, I am," admitted Harry. "A lot of this is new to me… I mean, I've always known I was, well, special, but less than two months ago I had no idea that there was a school for learning magic… I had no idea that my family was magical, either. I feel like I was missing out on a lot."
"So you were Muggle-raised, then?" Ambrosia asked Harry. He could tell by her tone that there was a note of disappointment in it, like maybe they had expected Harry to be some sort of wizarding rock star or some-such.
"I was," Harry confirmed. "The relatives I stayed with, well, they fear magic. They fear it so much that they deny its very existence. I know next to nothing about my wizarding heritage…"
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Ambrosia replied. "Both Ithamar and I knew your parents. They were a good three, maybe four years behind us at Hogwarts, but suffice to say, you have some serious wizarding ancestry, Harry."
Ithamar nodded in agreement. "You're the rightful heir to the Potter line, Harry. Much like the Greengrass lineage, the House of Potter is one of the oldest, wealthiest, and most powerful of the traditional British wizarding families. If you would like to learn more about taking your rightful place as the Potter heir, my wife and I – and even Daphne – would be delighted to teach you."
Tori then looked at the clock on the train station wall. "The train leaves in fifteen minutes," she announced.
Ithamar looked at his wife and younger daughter. "Could you excuse me for just a minute or two, please? Before it's time to say goodbye, I would like to impart some wisdom to Daphne and Harry." He motioned for Harry and Daphne to accompany him to a quiet nook. He then took a knee to look both children in the eye. He smiled as he addressed Daphne first.
"Daphne? You're a bright and open-minded girl, and I know you'll do me proud. Although the Greengrass family is traditionally a pureblooded family, I do not want you looking down on the half-bloods and especially the Muggle-born students. Even Harry here is technically a half-blood, but that's beside the point. A true witch or wizard always helps those in need – if you've mastered a spell, but you see a classmate that's struggling, I encourage you to help them out. They'll always remember that, and they'll return the favor should you ever have a moment of need. Does that make sense?"
Daphne smiled and nodded. "Yes, Daddy," she murmured.
Ithamar then turned to Harry. "Harry – I also want you to keep an open mind. For instance, you're going to experience one of the most important things a witch or a wizard goes through during their stay at Hogwarts – the Sorting Ceremony. I won't go over how it works, but you may hear stories about certain houses. Your parents were both in Gryffindor, and Ambrosia and myself were both in Slytherin, for example. Unfortunately, Slytherin has a reputation for having a disproportionate amount of wizards and witches that dabble in black magic or want to exclude Muggle-borns… and while there is some truth to that, I don't want you to get the idea that the entire house embraces darkness, which couldn't be further from the truth. There are many, many honorable witches and wizards that came from Slytherin – just because cunning and ambition are some of its more famous traits, doesn't mean that we're excused from playing by the rules."
He then stood up to his full height, and addressed both children, but kept his voice low. "Never judge someone by their house, but by their deeds. Both of you should know right from wrong by now, and you should also be wise enough to know which sort of friends are worth your while, and which ones aren't." He motioned with his head back to Ambrosia and Tori. "I think it's time we said goodbye properly."
Daphne tearfully embraced her sister, then her mother, then finally her father. "I'm going to miss you," she gasped. "I'll write as often as I can."
Harry shook Ithamar's hand. "Best of luck to you, Harry," said Ithamar. "Daphne will be delighted to answer any other questions you might have about the wizarding world." He smirked. "You might want to offer to get her a cauldron cake and a pumpkin juice," he whispered. Harry nodded, not certain what that was.
Ambrosia gently embraced Harry. "Good luck, Harry. You should find Daphne to be most pleasant company. I hope the two of you become good friends." Harry smiled at Ambrosia.
Finally, Tori launched herself at Harry and gave him a huge bear-hug. "Take care of Daph, will ya Harry?" she asked with eyes as big as saucers. She then giggled and whispered in his ear. "I think she kinda likes you a little bit already… please be nice to her, she doesn't have a lot of friends."
"I will," promised Harry as he smiled at Tori. "I'll see you sometime, okay?"
Ambrosia then pulled Harry off to the side. "I'm sure you've been wondering how to reach Platform Nine and Three Quarters… it's probably easier to watch than to explain it. Just watch Daphne – it's not hard at all, I promise."
A few moments later, Daphne pushed her trolley toward the barrier in between Platforms Nine and Ten; she did not stop or even slow down – in fact, she seemed to actually gain momentum the closer she got to the barrier. Harry winced as he mentally prepared himself for what seemed to be an inevitable clang once Daphne's trolley met the brick barrier, but no such crash happened! In fact, the trolley – followed by Daphne – disappeared entirely!
Harry did a double-take. Did that really just happen? Did she really just vanish – into thin air, just like that?
"Your turn, Harry," Ambrosia said encouragingly.
Harry took his trolley, and aligned it so that it was perfectly centered with the barrier. "You ready, Hedwig?" he whispered to his owl. Hedwig squawked gently, which Harry guessed was an affirmative response. He nodded to himself, and started pushing the trolley toward the barrier. He gradually picked up momentum and was practically at a jog by the time the trolley was to hit the barrier. He closed his eyes as the trolley passed through – and when he opened them a couple of seconds later, he was on the other side – both he and his belongings were perfectly intact!
"I can help you stow your belongings, if you'd like," offered a custodian. "They'll be ready for you at the castle."
"That would be terrific, thank you," breathed Harry. "I'll need my bag though, as I'm sure I'll have to change into my robes at some point." He then looked at the train in front of him – it was quite different looking than the Muggle trains at Kings Cross Station – it looked to be a vintage model of some sort, but painted a bright shade of red and despite probably being in excess of a century old, it looked as new as the day it was built.
Harry then caught Daphne in the corner of his eye – she was waving to him from the steps on one of the cars, and beckoned him to join her in one of the compartments. He hurried his way to the car that he saw Daphne in, and was nearly out of breath when he finally caught up to her in an empty compartment. He smiled at her as he took his seat across from her, which she returned. He was hoping to get to know this girl a bit better on their way to the castle – it would be nice to have a friend his own age.